Fragments from lone hours

And I close the door of my darkened chamber; I sit-
(midst of my four-walled confinement)
Beside fire- heaving a sigh of relief- Numb. Then hours fled-
My inanimate world comes to motion; commence with the recall of-
Forgotten past in an undignified manner. Faces arouse in suspicion-
From a curtained bitterness;
And I listen to those unheard voices from many years back,
All those symphonies which counts no one no more.
Slowly and softly my flattered thoughts embark on a saddened ride,
And the stormy wind outside turn into a grieving companion,
Rains strengthen its piercing arrows hurting upon the window glass
-in a sinful excitement,
And that is when all the noises turned off- like none of them ever existed
Quicker the foot steps of the last pedestrian dwindle away from nearby road,
Leaving a loner behind in solitude.
The enthusiasm in the fiery flames deaden quietly,
And a cold silence wrap me up. I crawl into the bed and no sound I make
I dare not awaken the ghosts from the dreamless slumber of night.
So I close my eyes-
But I hear again somewhere near a lost wind bewailing.
Somewhere falls a broken branch crying aloud
I become so aware of my frenzied spines- my anesthetized being,
And then I fall into sleep-
Or I compelled to die . . .
Adieu! Cursed shadows- the dwellers within me.

© copyright protected 2013

Note: Last night when I truly was feeling so lost inside and I started writing the feelings . . . . .

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The Dam-na-tion

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A memory in a crack disc- a thought so disdain ,
A silent fear trickles down with the dripping sweat –
Sometime a voiceless voice stir vigorously- the nervous system.
The crowd- a turmoil, and those impassive faces, cold disorder,
There’s no sign of regret- or returning from formlessness,
Imperceptible acknowledgement of impenetrable A mystery,
The stillness ran into a riot-a massive destruction- a chaos,
Refusal in tone- rather disclosure of an unknown submissiveness,
Such hatred foiled and crafted beautifully- disgraceful and a disposal,
And heart, becomes a receptacle for deceased feelings-
More oft the sky rains- to pour life into lives, to pacify the disorder,
but every time receded-
Softly, and very slowly in terrible anguish, disconcerted-
A terror- a fire ventured in- diminishing all desires from hearts,
And no souls have left salvaging themSelves from straying-
Dispatched in haste-
tremble when passing through treacherous winter,
Icy touch and then solidity, and then shuddering into pieces –
All efforts in tremor.
And then comes in exquisite manner
Compelled into-

The Dam-na-tion.

© copyright protected 2013

Fragmented thoughts from my diary . . .

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